Oath of Fealty
by dedanaan
Summary: This story occurs between the 'aftermath of Neverneath' & the beginning of the bridge sieges in the NWN2 OC. The story involves Shirtless Nevalle, female PC and Sand. With other NPCs butting in in the interludes. Chapter 10 now uploaded. Feb 20, 2007
1. Chapter 1

"You're joking, right?" Haesseth, despite her reputation as a quick wit, wasn't able to manage any other comeback to what she'd just been told. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Nevalle's expression was deadpan, as per usual.

"Then why didn't anyone say anything to me about this before? Why didn't Lord Nasher mention it? In fact, we've just spent the better part of a week on horseback riding back to this keep together and you still didn't find it important enough to clue me in?" Haesseth knew she sounded desperate but she didn't care.

"With all the turmoil going on, it's something that got lost in the shuffle… but I made sure I had everything we needed before we left Neverwinter."

"And what do you need? Apart from me, that is."

"Sand. We'll need Sand. He's an experienced enough mage to do the job. We need you; Sand; this scroll," Nevalle produced a scroll-case and waved it in the air in front of the Knight-Captain's face, "and me, to bear witness and ensure the oath is completed as required. You just wait here and I'll go fetch the wizard so we can get started."

After Nevalle left, Haesseth was tempted to bolt from the keep and go into hiding somewhere in the surrounding countryside but it was a futile thought. She'd stepped up security enough that there were regular patrols on the roads and in the surrounding lands. It would be just her luck to have one of the patrolling greycloaks trip over her in the dead of night. She poured herself a goblet of wine from the carafe the Seneschal had placed on her desk when he'd welcomed her home a scant few hours ago. She sighed and flopped down in one of the chairs by the fireplace in her suite of rooms. She sipped at the wine and wondered, as she stared into the dancing flames in the hearth, what it was in all of Abeir-Toril she had set herself up for this time.

Soon enough there was a knock at the door and Nevalle called out to announce he had returned with Sand in tow. Haesseth took her time in answering the door, eventually letting both men cross the threshold before closing and barring the door behind them. Sand raised a brow at the abruptness of her actions.

"Why, Captain," he smirked, his voice smooth like a caress, "what will the others say when they discover you've locked yourself in your suite with two of your men?"

His remark hit home and Haesseth could just imagine the filth-laden innuendo Bishop would come up with. _Thank you, Sand, for the reminder_. "He… they'll say nothing if they want to keep their precious teeth in their heads," she growled, flexing her right hand and forming a fist with it.

"Ah, as long as I know you'll be there to protect my virtue, Captain, that's fine," Sand replied, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. "Now," he changed the subject and turned to Nevalle, "what was so important you had to drag me away from my research at such a late hour?"

"This." Nevalle handed Sand the scroll-case and sat down in the chair opposite Haesseth, a smile playing about his lips. Haesseth was immediately suspicious and glared at him. When Nevalle smiled, it was right to be afraid.

"Hmmm…" Sand's voice caught Haesseth's attention and she turned to watch the Moon Elf as he read. "Really, this is quite interesting. I had no idea this was required of the Nine."

"It wasn't necessary until Lord Halueth was betrayed by one of his own." Nevalle turned and levelled a gaze at Haesseth. "You know the one, you saw his likeness in the tomb in Neverneath." Haesseth's eyes widened. She'd never taken the time to learn exactly how it was the man had betrayed Lord Halueth. It must have been an awful and bitter deed to require all of the guardians since then to submit to this final binding into the service of Neverwinter. Nevalle turned and spoke to Sand once more, "when Neverwinter was still known as Eigersstor, the Guardians were not required to take this final Oath of Fealty."

"I see," Sand replied, eyes still scanning the unfurled scroll he held.

"And Haesseth is rather lucky. When it came time for my Oath to be sworn and witnessed, all of the living members of the Nine were present. She only has to put up with me."

"And why is that a good thing?" Haesseth asked in a voice a little sharper than she'd intended.

"The evening degenerates into an alcohol lubricated show-and-tell," Nevalle explained, a pained look crossing his face as he recalled memories of his own ceremony. "And believe me, you're better off not knowing—or ever seeing—the spot Callum chose to sport the physical manifestation of his oath." Haesseth had never thought she'd see Nevalle shudder. It made her grin, even if the thought of what she'd just been told about Callum made her feel a little green around the gills.

"So, Captain, where would you like it?" Sand asked, having finished studying the scroll in his hands.

"You mean I have a choice?" She asked, looking from wizard to knight.

"Of course you have a choice," Nevalle replied indignantly.

"So where's yours then?" Haesseth asked, prodded on by something devilish in her mind. "Come on, let's see it."

"Ah, yes, I have to agree with the Knight Captain," Sand goaded, "do show us. After all I've never done anything like this particular spell, so I'd like to see what glyph or symbol is supposed to be there if it's done right." The Moon Elf enjoyed making Sir Nevalle uncomfortable. He had so few pleasures nowadays. If it wasn't for Haesseth making his days interesting, he might be bored to tears, otherwise.

"Erm… right… well." Nevalle seemed startled by their request. He stood up and tugged on the bottom of his tabard. Haesseth hadn't registered the fact he had shrugged off the mail before he had come to visit her tonight as he still sported the tunic that marked him as one of the Nine.

"Hey," Haesseth shrieked raising an arm and pointing a finger at her mentor from the Nine. "You took your bloody armour off!" Nevalle blushed scarlet at her observation.

"Well, yes, but that's because I knew what would be happening here. I knew you'd demand to see it. That's the kind of person you are, you want something tangible and if I was still dressed in my armour the whole process would be twice as tedious."

"Right." Sand's scepticism was obvious. "You keep telling yourself that, Nevalle."

Nevalle stood and shrugged the distinctive tabard of the Nine over his shoulders. He snapped it inside out and draped it over the back of the chair he had just vacated.

"He's so completely anal," Haesseth whispered to Sand. The wizard choked back a laugh at her comment. It wouldn't do to be oxygen deprived before this ceremony.

After the tabard came the tunic. Haesseth was sure she had a predatory grin on her face the whole time he was unlacing himself, but she couldn't wipe the thing off her face if her life depended on it. She couldn't help it.

Nevalle finished unlacing himself and pulled the edges of his shirt apart. The laces slackened and Nevalle pulled the whole thing over his head so his hands became tangled in the sleeves. He looked up at the Knight-Captain and the wizard.

"Well, here it is."

"That was underwhelming," Haesseth complained.

"But you must agree it's very nicely drawn," Sand countered, poking at Nevalle's shoulder with more force than was called for. "Look beyond the sigil. Look at where the magic is anchored."

"Thanks for the lecture." Haesseth ran her fingertip over the tattoo on Sir Nevalle's shoulder and shivered. The magic bound there was very powerful.

"I must ask again, Haesseth, are you prepared to take this final oath?"

"I am."

"Then I am compelled to ask this question once again. Where do you want it?"


	2. Chapter 2

"So how's this going to work?"

"What do you mean?"

"Procedurally. What's the process? I've only heard about how I have to take this final oath and how it results in the tattoo as the physical manifestation… but how does it work, exactly?"

"I'm not sure you'll like the answer, Haesseth," Sand's reply was serious and his tone alone set off alarm bells in her head.

"And why is that?"

"Three components must be combined to make the medium we then use to sketch the glyph."

"So?"

"It's a mixture of the blood of the caster, the blood of the witness and the blood of the one who swears the oath."

"And?"

"Then I bind them."

"…" Haesseth looked at Sand expectantly and he obliged her by continuing.

"I have to trace the glyph on to your bare skin with the concoction." There, he'd said it.

"Oh," she let out a sigh of relief, "is that all?"

"Is that all? Aren't you at least the bit offended or apprehensive?"

"Should I be?"

"No?" Sand didn't sound too clear on that answer.

"So what's the problem then?"

"If you want it anywhere else but your hands, face or neck, you're going to have to take your clothes off." The more he tried to explain, the more strangled his voice became. Haesseth grinned suddenly and Sand stepped back, a little wary.

"Okay," Haesseth grinned as she began unfastening the stays of the snug-fitting leather corset she wore over her tunic. She bit back a laugh as she took in the twin looks of shock on the faces of both Sand and Nevalle. Their sense of propriety made her laugh. Sand was more easygoing than Nevalle, but both men were still quite reticent.

Their eyes widened as she dropped the corset to the floor and began to unlace the tunic she wore underneath it. She couldn't help but play it up, they were both so disconcerted by her behaviour. If she was going to have to go through this ritual, she might as well have a little fun with it. She loosened the shirt and slid it off her shoulders, shimmying to step out of it as it slid down her body.

"I'd like it here, if you wouldn't mind." She pointed to the spot that sat nestled along the top of her left pelvic bone.

"I don't mind," Sand answered, his voice suddenly confident and seductive all at once. Haesseth smiled. He'd found his footing. This was going to be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

Nevalle had actually squeaked when Haesseth's shirt dropped to pool at her feet. Sand had realised then that the Knight Captain was having a little fun with an otherwise awkward situation. The whole ritual was somewhat disconcerting and he could see now that her startling and sudden show of wanton behaviour was actually a defence mechanism. By making Nevalle more uncomfortable, she was increasing her own comfort with the ceremony and the state of undress she required in order to take the final oath.

"I must admit, this is a side of you I've never seen before," Sand murmured as he traced a finger over the spot Haesseth had pointed out just a moment before. He felt Haesseth twitch under his touch.

"And a front too," Haesseth smiled as she shrank away from him. She was ticklish and the fact was blackmail material. Her words and actions prompted the Moon Elf to raise a brow.

"Such a nice front it is," Sand acknowledged, lifting the same finger that had touched her hip and tracing the long, faded scar that ran between her breasts. His actions made her shiver and she leaned into his touch.

"Hoo, boy," she whispered.

"Boy? I'll have you know I'm almost three hundred years old." Sand sniffed, but his eyes were dancing with humour.

"A three hundred year old elf with entirely too many clothes on when compared to the rest of the people in this room." Haesseth quipped and Sand laughed at her cheek.

"You'd say anything to get me naked, wouldn't you?" he taunted.

"Just about," she stuck her tongue out at him. "So?"

"Um… should I come back later?" Nevalle interrupted--sounding so completely and utterly embarrassed--from somewhere behind Haesseth. The half-elf had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing.

"You're a key to this binding," Sand scolded as he looked over at the knight, "you can't leave. The scroll is quite specific about the witness being one of the Nine if the current Lord of Neverwinter is unavailable. I don't know of anyone else at the keep who fits the description, so sit back down where you were and don't move until I tell you to." Sand's fingers played along Haesseth's skin as he traced a path to her cheekbone, his hand lingering there a moment in a gentle caress. "Haesseth, do you have any alchemy supplies in your suite of rooms?"

"Depends on what it is exactly that you'll need for this ritual. I do have some stuff stashed away in the drawers under the desk there but nothing fancy, just the basics. All the good stuff is downstairs in the workshop."

"I need a silver bowl and a silver blade and a glass stirring rod if you have them." And just like that it was back to business. Haesseth stood up and turned towards the desk. Nevalle, catching a glimpse of her naked chest for the first time, blushed scarlet and ducked his head.

"Is there a problem, Sir Nevalle?" she asked sweetly, possessed yet again by the devilish instinct that had previously goaded him into taking off his shirt.

"Um… no, not at all," Nevalle stammered in response.

"Then relax. You're making me nervous," she told him as she walked over to the desk and pulled the drawers open to look for the items Sand had requested.

"But you're making me nervous. Very much so," Nevalle admitted.

"Which is making me nervous," Sand told the knight, "so stop it. The last thing we need here is a twitchy caster. Who knows what manner of things could go wrong if I can't concentrate." The wizard's voice carried the promise of a threat.

"Sorry, I can't help it."

"We're in luck. I've got all the items you asked for here, Sand." Haesseth set a small silver bowl on the desk. "Will this be big enough?" Sand crossed the room to stand beside her.

"It'll serve the purpose we need," he replied, picking the blade and rod out of her hand. "It's going to take me a few minutes to prepare things here."

"Is there anything you need me to do?"

"Keep Nevalle busy. His fidgeting is distracting."

"Yes, sir!" Haesseth saluted and strode across the room to stand behind a very tense member of the Nine. She dropped her hands to his neck and he almost jumped ten feet in the air. "Would you just relax, already," she sighed as she began to massage the tension from his shoulders.

"That's easier said than done," he retorted. She couldn't help but laugh out loud at his petulant tone.

"Ah, Nevalle, you crack me up." She began to sing, softly, a ballad from her childhood. It was a comforting song and she infused it with magic to help calm the man sitting in front of her. She smiled as she felt him still beneath her touch.


	4. Interlude I

Meanwhile, down at the inn, Neeshka and Kelghar were sitting at a table, nursing drinks and sniping good-natured insults back and forth at each other as had become their habit of late.

The bard Sal had just hired on really needed to work on his repertoire. Neeshka had become very, very tired of hearing the same songs over and over and over again. He couldn't play or sing half as well as Haesseth and his songs were filled with much too much decorum and tragedy for the tiefling's liking. Neeshka missed hearing the Captain play and sing around the campfire as they travelled. She even missed the duets with Grobnar and that was saying something. The Captain had a seemingly infinite supply of bawdy and funny songs. It had become a sort-of ritual when they were out on the road. Haesseth would always play a song or two before they crawled into their bedrolls, infusing the music with whatever magic was needed based on the day's events.

Maybe that was the problem. Neeshka dropped her chin into the cradle of her palm and rested an elbow on the table. Was there such a thing as Keep Fever? She would bet her lucky coin there was. There was no intrigue here the way there had been in Neverwinter. Neverwinter was one hundred times the size of this place. Crossroads Keep and its surrounding villages were quaintly pastoral. Every day was just about exactly the same as the one before. It was mind-numbingly predictable, both inside and outside the ramparts. No Axle or Moire or any number of others messing things up. The smith and the armourer were busy crafting the supplies for the growing numbers of greycloaks signing on each week. The greycloaks themselves were training hard and Kana was proud of them and how far they'd come. Neeshka could tell from the way she had almost cracked a smile the other day as she'd watched a group of them practicing. Master Veedle and his crew were working away, diligently rebuilding the towers and fortifying the ramparts. But the whole routine was killing the tiefling. At least the nightly custom with Haesseth around the campfire had always come upon the heels of a highly unpredictable day.

They'd been holed up at the keep for almost a month, ever since the Captain had been summoned to stand before Lord Nasher without them. It had hurt to be excluded again. Neeshka was many things these days, but excluded wasn't one of them, until the summons came. She didn't blame Haesseth, though. The Captain had been as surprised as the rest of them when Nevalle explained that her companions hadn't been invited.

Something was wrong tonight but Neeshka hadn't been able to put her tail on it before now.

Things were too quiet.

The Captain usually joined them here within a couple of hours of returning, but they hadn't seen her so far tonight. Where was she? That asshole, Bishop, had been hanging around off-and-on for the past few weeks, making their life even more miserable with his 'I'm mean and angry so kill-em-all' outlook on life. He'd been especially pissed at not being invited to the castle with the Captain. Neeshka was still having trouble with that one.

So where was he? And where was the Captain?

Bishop had been lurking in the shadows between the buildings that housed the smithy and the armoury when Haesseth and that pansy from the Neverwinter Nine rode into the keep. He'd watched with narrowed eyes as she slid off her mount and handed the reigns over to her peer. Her _peer_. She, too, was wearing the livery of the Neverwinter Nine.

What had happened? He watched as she laughed at something Sir Nevalle had just said to her and waved him off towards the stables. He skulked behind her the whole way back to the keep, staying far enough behind to ensure he didn't arouse any suspicions.

Bishop smirked at the groan that escaped her when she was cornered by Kana and ushered into the war room for a briefing on everything that had happened at the keep in her absence. He nosed around for a bit and chose to sit with the fence, Uncas, in the best seats in the house. He liked sitting with Uncas. He could throw that Luskan bitch, Torio, some deadly and threat-laden glances from here. It was such a hoot to watch her blood boil.

And then there was that pious puppet, Casavir, standing off in the opposite corner of the room with that old lieutenant of his. Bishop loved keeping the paladin on edge.


	5. Interlude II

About half an hour later Bishop watched as Sir Nevalle strode in to the keep and stalked through the great hall in the direction of the war room. The knight nodded curtly in the paladin's direction before disappearing through the oak bound doorway that led to the wing housing the war room, kitchens, dining hall, guest rooms and the staircase to the lower levels. He didn't like seeing Nevalle swanning around the place as if he owned it. Wasn't there a fiefdom somewhere else in need of supervision? Wasn't Nasher getting lonely without his little lapdog running around his ankles and yapping?

He pulled a sharpening stone out of a pouch on his belt and began to hone his skinning knife to a razor sharp edge. He turned the blade over in his hand, studying it. What had happened with that creepy little kid to wake the blade? There was a faint tingling sensation from the knife that hadn't been there before Haesseth had nagged him into handing the blade over. Marcus had unsettled Bishop more than he'd ever let on. There was something in the boy's gaze that seemed to see right into the soul, even one as blackened and twisted as Bishop's.

His head whipped up as he heard the voice of the Captain carry across the great hall. The voices dropped and he watched her cross the hall with Nevalle at her side. Whatever the pansy had just told her didn't seem to sit very well. Her lips were compressed into a thin line and she was scowling. He was surprised as they stepped past where he sat and entered the wing of the keep that housed the library and the captain's suite. What was that about? After another minute he heard a door slam. He would have nipped around the corner and stood closer to the door to have a better listen, but that spoiled, pyromaniac whiner had taken to hanging out there and she'd certainly see him and then he'd have to explain himself to her, of all people. Why didn't the stupid cow hang out somewhere else, like that casting circle in the lower level? It'd make more sense if she lurked around down there. He was convinced she was really a denizen of the lower planes; she'd certainly made his life Hell since the unfortunate day he'd met her. And really, if there was anyone who deserved to be tortured by having to endure the company of that idiot gnome, it was Qara.

* * *

Neeshka and Kelghar were startled when they heard Sal call out for 'Last Rounds'. They hadn't thought it was that late. The Captain should have joined them ages ago. Without fail, when they were here at the keep, everyone gravitated to the inn before the night was up. Yet here it was at closing time and there was no sign of her. And still no sign of Bishop, or Casavir either, for that matter. As reserved as the paladin was, it was guaranteed he'd drop in if the Captain made an appearance. Neeshka glanced around the common room. Only a few of the locals and off-duty greycloaks sat around the various tables. Joy had danced her last set half an hour ago and had left for the night along with the bard. Sal was washing down the top of the bar, mopping up the slopped ale and mead.

"Kelghar, do you fancy taking a walk up to the keep with me?" Neeshka asked.

"Huh, what for, Lass?"

"I'm curious," Neeshka admitted with a smile as she stood up. "I want to see Haesseth. I'd like to know if she brought me back something from Neverwinter."

"I'm sure she dinna have time to bring any souvenirs."

Yeah, but you never know what interesting things I could find in her pack! I mean I haven't searched it in almost a month. There could be all sorts of new goodies in there. It's not right, all those poor, lonely little knick-knacks just calling my name." She batted her eyelashes and wrung her hands dramatically for effect.

Kelghar laughed in response to her outburst "Well, lass, if it makes ye happy I'm sure we could take a wee jaunt up there and see what's goin' on." He slid off the bench and stood up next to the tiefling.

Thanks, Kelghar," Neeshka grinned as she pushed the dwarf out the door and into the night air. "Hey… shall we check in on our loopy tree hugger on the way up?"

"By the gods, do we have to?" Kelghar groaned. "Isn't it bad enough I'm saddled with the likes of you already?"

"Hey, who is that talking to Elanee?" Neeshka hissed, as she prodded Kelghar with her tail to get his attention. The dwarf squinted and looked over at the small grove of trees in the courtyard where the druid could usually be found.

"Isn't that Haesseth's foster-father?"

"He hardly says two words to anyone, let alone the Captain... and she's his daughter. I wonder what's going on there?"

"Let's not find out," Kelghar shook his head, "probably some long and boring story about the Mere and trompin' around in the wilds in the company of badgers and the like. We've enough experience of our own with that one without swappin' stories about it. Don't you think it was bad enough living through it the first time? At least when Haesseth tells her tales, they're amusin'. I can't rightly say I'd relish listenin' to either of those two dronin' on."

"You vertically-challenged spoilsport! Wouldn't it be fun to lord this over Elanee's head? Wouldn't you love to see her all flustered?" Neeshka scolded, but she was smiling as she said it and Kelghar didn't even bat an eye at the half-hearted insult.

"And anyway, Lass, didn't ye tell me yer being called by some poor, lonely little knick-knacks."

"Ah, yes… my pretties." Neeshka's eyes lit up at the prospect of what she might find. Kelghar chuckled. It was so easy to divert her attention when the prospect of treasure was involved.

* * *

Five minutes ago the door to the Captain's suite had opened and there was the sound of footsteps. Only one set, though, and it wasn't Haesseth. Bishop would know her footfalls anywhere. He leaned back and waited for Nevalle to cross through the great hall to on his way back to the tower the Nine had set up as base camp out here in 'the field'. It didn't happen. Bishop sat up a little straighter when he heard the door to the library being opened and closed. Did Lord Nasher need an update on the work of that rambling lunatic, Aldanon? A minute later the door to the library opened again and Bishop heard the whisper of robes.

"Why so cryptic, Nevalle?" The whispered question carried to the ranger's ears. It was the elven wizard, Sand, and not Aldanon. "Is this another of your tests?"

"Let's get back to the Knight Captain. It's Nine business and we can't discuss it here."

"Those two make strange bedfellows." Qara observed a minute later as she stepped into the great hall and moved to stand next to the ranger. Pyro Girl had just taken the words right out of his mouth.


	6. Chapter 6

Sand set the sterilised silver bowl on the rug in front of the fire and stepped away from it. He looked over his shoulder to where Haesseth was still singing softly and massaging Nevalle's neck. The girl had a smile on her face and it looked good on her. With the ever-building conflict around them, it was becoming rare. She really needed to do it more. They all needed to do it more. Except for Grobnar who was oblivious to everything going on around him... And Bishop... The ranger had a predatory smile. It wasn't comforting at all and was better not to see it. He stood and listened to what she was singing for a minute and felt the tension draining out of him. If she could make Nevalle, of all people, sit back and relax it wouldn't be hard at all to do the same to him.

The wizard looked down at his heavy robes before darting a gaze across the room to where his shirtless compatriots stood. They seemed comfortable now and he was the one who was out of place. They were both conducting tonight's business in the same uniform, leather-laced trews and nothing else. What was that old human saying? If you can't beat 'em, join 'em? It sounded like a good idea. After all, with the upcoming bloodletting and subsequent ritual he didn't want to stain his sleeves and the excess material would only get dragged through the reagent he'd be creating for the glyph. He stepped over to Haesseth's bed and began unfastening the row of buttons that chased all the way down the front of the robe.

"Ooh," he heard an excited exclamation from across the room. "Look, Nevalle, Sand is joining us." Her comment was met with a choking sound that made her laugh; a loud and joyous noise that rung around the room. "Oh, come on, it's only fair. Why should he get to keep his clothes on?" The elf pulled the robe off and tossed it, semi-neatly, across the bed. He'd kept in mind the comment made earlier about Nevalle being anal and didn't want to be compared. Then he turned and faced Haesseth with a flourish and a raised brow that conveyed the question, 'so, do you like what you see?" It was apparent she did. On the other hand, Nevalle was looking at him as if he'd sprouted two heads. The thought made Sand chuckle. Who'd ever have thought the two of them--uncomfortable allies through all these years--would find themselves in the situation they had tonight. It was quite amusing at some level. Sand just hadn't come to terms with how. It would be rather fun to push the other man's buttons. He wasn't usually the one with the upper hand in his dealings with Nevalle. It was nice to see the knight flustered for a change.

Sand was sure Nevalle had felt naked the moment he took his armour off and that had been back in the Tower of the Nine. The man hid behind layers of decorum and the stiff formality of the court. Sand crossed back to the desk and muttered a cantrip to sterilise the glass rod and silver blade. As he did so, he thought about the winding road that had brought him here. He would never have become as close to Haesseth if he hadn't been ordered to help her fight the accusations Luskan had levelled against her when they'd destroyed Ember and tried to frame her for it. But they hadn't had to make it an order. He would have helped anyway; they only had to ask.

The girl intrigued him. He knew the stoic man who had raised her as his foster-daughter and was very well acquainted with her ne'er-do-well uncle. He'd often wondered how she'd turned out so well adjusted and sociable when held up against the cool reserve of Daeghun. Maybe that had been the reason she was so outgoing and charismatic. She was enigmatic, and if there was one thing Sand loved, it was a puzzle. She wore many faces and her roles were different for each one. If you were to stumble across her playing at an inn in her entertainer's costume with her harp on her lap, you'd never reconcile her with the determined knight she'd become. Then there was the face she wore in battle; she was more like her foster-father there than anywhere else. He'd never tell her that, though. She might not take it as the compliment it was. He leaned forward and bathed his hands up to his wrists in the dancing lights surrounding the blade and rod.

"All right, then," Sand spoke as he ended the cantrip. The lights sparked out and he reached down and picked the instruments up. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" He walked over to the rug and sank down cross-legged upon it, behind the bowl he'd set there earlier.


	7. Chapter 7

Haesseth snuck another draught from her goblet of wine before moving to the rug and sinking down cross-legged opposite the wizard, emulating his pose. Nevalle was being wishy-washy all of a sudden. It was as if he couldn't make up his mind if he were coming or going. Sand shot an annoyed look in the direction of the knight and Haesseth decided to take pity on him before the wizard snapped.

"Come sit by me, Nevalle, and we can get started." She patted the ground next to herself in invitation. He looked over at her from where he'd been pacing.

"Oh… right," he studied the spot on the floor she'd indicated for a moment before settling down there.

"Now that everyone is finally ready," Sand's voice held a hint of reprimand as he looked pointedly at the knight, "let us begin. Both of you hold out your left hands together so they're over the bowl." Haesseth and Nevalle complied and their hands were bathed in the same dancing lights Sand had used to sterilise the equipment. Haesseth giggled at the tickling sensation chasing over her skin. A moment later the lights were extinguished and Sand held out the knife. He grasped Haesseth's wrist with his cool fingers and drew the silver blade across the palm of her hand. The action drew a hissing breath from the Knight Captain, but she didn't flinch. The wound welled up immediately and Sand tipped her hand and held it so the blood dripped into the bowl without running down her fingers or to her wrist. Haesseth watched the crimson stream drip into the bowl, a little fascinated by the disturbing beauty as it splashed and settled in the silver basin. There was poetry to it and she found herself composing an impromptu verse in her head. She smiled as she imagined the looks she'd get if she were to sing her 'Ode to Blood' down at Sal's inn. Of course, some of them would probably be right into it and it would become a runaway hit all up and down the Sword Coast. She was sure those kids who haunted the graveyard back in the Blacklake District would think it all the rage. Sand tipped her hand again so the blood welled in the palm and raised an eyebrow, questioning the grin on her face. She just winked and he shook his head as if she were incorrigible.

"You might want to heal that," the wizard told her as he let go of her wrist and reached out to repeat the procedure with Nevalle.

Haesseth reached into herself for the healing magic she wielded as she watched the bowl, now filling with the second component. She looked at Sand's slender and elegant fingers wrapped around Nevalle's wrist and was struck again by how unalike the two men sitting in front of her were. They made an interesting study, their two different forms silhouetted in the light thrown by the fireplace behind them.

They were both very tasty in their own way and her brain began thinking naked thoughts. She scolded herself even as her mind hared off further in a direction it was best not to go in right now. But it had been so long… _Task at hand, girl. Task at hand. _By the time she had reined her treacherous thoughts in, Nevalle was finished and Sand was adding his own blood to the mix. Haesseth reached out and took Nevalle's hand in both of her own, calling forth some more magic to knit the gash in his palm back together.

"Thank you," he mouthed, not wanting to disturb the wizard.

"If you'd like to heal me too," Sand stuck his hand out to Haesseth, "we can move on to activating the reagent."

"I'd be delighted, thanks for asking," she answered with a laugh as she fixed him up.

"I need silence while I cast the enchantment." Sand instructed as he directed a steady stream of magic into the glass rod he was stirring the mixture with. Haesseth watched him work with interest. His actions were casual and practiced. He'd probably done something similar thousands of times over, just not with the same ingredients or incantation. She watched a glimmer of magic chase around in the wake of the rod, diffusing into the liquid. It was almost hypnotising. In fact, she felt an intense need to stretch and yawn.

Haesseth sat up straight and raised her hands above her head, grabbing her left wrist with her right hand, arching her back and pulling hard until she felt the knot between her shoulder blades ease. Then she switched off and stretched the other side before dropping her hands to her mouth to cover a yawn. Sand had said he didn't want any noise. She looked up to see Nevalle watching her, wide-eyed and blushing and once again felt the devilish urge that liked to mess with him rising up. Hmmm… how to torment him now? She leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek, a move that made him flush even deeper than before.

"It's ready," Sand announced, removing the rod from the bowl and setting it on the same scrap of cloth where he'd laid the knife earlier. Haesseth sat up, alert, and watched him expectantly. "I'll need you to lie on your right side and loosen the waist of your trews a little so I don't get any of the reagent on them as I work. I need as clear a spot as possible to lay down the glyph. I also don't want to be maimed by you because I botched the job."

"Would I do that?" Haesseth teased as she loosened the lacings and slid the waist of her trews down to rest on the widest part of her hips. She lay down on her side, propped her head in her hand, and smiled up at him.

"You most certainly would," Sand answered as he rocked forward and shifted onto his knees. "Confirm that this is where you want it." He reached out with his finger and traced the glyph of fealty on to the skin at the top of her hipbone.

"Aaahh!" she shrieked as she bucked away from his touch. "That tickles!"

"Mystra have mercy on us. Nevalle, hold her still. She can't be moving while I'm tracing this on to her skin."

"I'm sorry, Haesseth," Nevalle apologised as he wrapped his arms around the Knight Captain and held her tight.

"Ooh, don't be," Haesseth grinned at him, "this is kind of interesting." Nevalle shook his head and cracked his first genuine smile of the evening.

"You're crazy."

"So I've been told. Try it again, now that I'm all snug in Nevalle's iron grip."

Sand snorted, but retraced the glyph with a dry finger and was satisfied that Nevalle could keep the Knight Captain still long enough for him to paint the reagent on to her skin and speak the final incantation.

"Well, here goes nothing," he murmured under his breath as he dipped his finger into the reagent and began to sketch out the glyph.

The wizard could feel Haesseth tremble slightly under his touch, but thanks to the knight she wasn't moving enough to ruin what he was doing; so far so good. A minute later the glyph was complete and he spoke the word of activation. As he spoke it felt like all the air had been pulled into the centre of the room to swirl around them for a moment before it pulsed back out with the force of a tidal wave. The magic was infused with something they hadn't anticipated or expected; something Sand could kick himself for forgetting--the magic of the Sword of Gith. How could he have overlooked the powerful shard she had embedded in her chest?

"Sweet Mother Senahine," Haesseth whimpered as she bucked in Nevalle's arms. "What in the hells was that?"


	8. Chapter 8

"That didn't happen with my ritual," Nevalle observed, his skin tingling from the magic crackling in the air around them. He was still holding on to Haesseth, who was leaning against him panting.

"Of course not. You didn't have the shard of a powerful extra-planar artefact embedded inside you when you took the oath." Sand answered shortly before launching into a string of elven swears that made Haesseth laugh, even though her heart was pounding as if she'd just ran the entire distance between the Keep and Highcliff wearing Casavir's full plate.

"Is that even anatomically possible, Sand?" she teased, using Nevalle as leverage to sit so she could take a look at her hip. "Is the Eye supposed to look like this?" she wondered out loud.

"No," Nevalle answered as he leaned over to see what she meant. The tattoo on the Knight Captain's hip was iridescent, a shifting mix of molten silver and copper. "I've never seen it look like that before. Every single one I've seen up until now has been black, just like mine." He turned his right arm around and looked down at his own version of the Eye.

"What have we wrought here?" Sand rubbed his temples. How had the shard twisted the Glyph of Fealty? What would the effects be? How would he even go about researching it? He could just see the looks on the faces of their companions if he were to excuse himself and pull the Knight Captain off into the trees while they were travelling so he could take her armour and clothes off--for purely investigative reasons, of course.

"I feel tingly all over," Haesseth observed. "How about either of you?"

"I'm feeling it too," Nevalle confirmed.

"And I." Sand's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of everything, replaying the events of the last five minutes over again in his mind's eye. "And it's not just the effect of the residual magic in the air. This resonates deeper." He lifted up his hand and studied the reagent that had dried on the fingertip he'd used to trace the glyph. It had the same iridescent sheen to it that Haesseth's tattoo did. He wiped the finger on the edge of the scrap of cloth where he had set the blade and rod earlier. The reagent didn't come off. His mind made a connection it hadn't before. Both he and Nevalle had been touching Haesseth when he'd spoken the word of activation. Uh oh. Had they somehow been bound with the magic of the shard too? Well, wouldn't that be wonderful indeed? And if they had been bound was it to Neverwinter or the Knight Captain, or somehow both. He wasn't sure how that would affect Nevalle as he'd been bound to Neverwinter previously, but what about himself? Nasher would get a kick out of it, at least.

Haesseth watched the expression change on Sand's face as he processed what had just happened. He grimaced finally and she wanted to know what it was he'd just thought of. "What?" she asked.

"I'm not sure you'll want to know," he sighed.

She lifted a hand to his cheek. "Humour me." He gave her a half smile and told them about his worries. When he finished, Nevalle was looking at him with disbelief and the Knight Captain was frowning up at him from her spot against Nevalle's chest.

"I told you you didn't want to know."

"So how do we figure it out? What do we need to do?"

"That's just it, I'm not even sure where to begin."

"Nevalle, how does the Oath work?" Haesseth looked up at the knight she was leaning on. "I mean, how exactly does it prevent you from betraying Neverwinter?"

"From what I understand, it renders you incapable of acting against Neverwinter's best interests. If you try, you'll become physically ill to the point of collapse. If you persist in your actions the Oath will kill you. I've heard it's not pretty; it works like a fast acting and highly unpleasant toxin."

"So how do we test whether or not you've been bound to me? Do you try to hurt me or what?"

"I don't want to hurt you, Haesseth," Nevalle sounded positively affronted by what she'd suggested.

"Let's start off slow here, bard," Sand scolded, "there's no need to jump in at the deep end." He looked thoughtful again and addressed his next remark to the senior member of the Nine. "What about orders? How do they work?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is there a compulsion or drive to carry them out? If so, how does it feel?"

"I suppose the best way to sum it up would be to compare it to an itch that has to be scratched. You don't feel at ease until the order is carried out. The more specific the order, the more urgent the need to do what has to be done--it's like a geas, almost."

"And I signed up for this? I must be insane," Haesseth muttered.

"So if the Knight Captain were to give us orders which we tried to resist, we'd have an answer as to whether we've become bound to her?"

"Exactly!"

"So, Haesseth, what would you have us do?"


	9. Interlude III

"Zhjaeve," Casavir acknowledged the Githzerai cleric as she entered the great hall and nodded in greeting to him.

"Know that I have heard many interesting tales from the one called Guyven, Katalmach. I would know more of how you earned this name."

"You would know more of Old Owl Well?"

"You'll be sorry," Katriona told the cleric, "if you'll excuse me, I've got some greycloak business to discuss with Kana." Because the Knight Captain had been gone for almost a month, Casavir had spent a lot of time in Katriona's company. When he wasn't boring her with the tales of his adventures with the Knight Captain, he was talking about their time fighting together against the orcs. Things were different when you weren't in the thick of battle. He wasn't half as attractive now as he had been. When actions spoke louder than words, he could win her over. She didn't need to have everything about their time in Old Owl Well rehashed yet again. It seemed like it was the only thing the man wanted to talk about. When he said a word; that was.

"Why would I be sorry?" Zhjaeve asked the paladin.

"Katriona has a strange sense of humour. Never mind what she said, it was a joke."

"Oh… I have yet to master the humour from this plane."

"So has he," Katriona fired over her shoulder as she crossed the room to join Kana.

Kana was studying the duty roster she'd drawn up for the next week when Katriona joined her. "What's the plan for the next week?" Katriona asked.

"Do you really want to know or are you just trying to get away from those two?"

"Both?" Katriona clarified hopefully.

"Alright, I'll humour you. We've got a bit of a bugbear problem and we need to take care of it. I can't get a hold of Jalboun or Light of Heaven, which makes me suspicious as they're both missing again at the same time. I think there's something going on between them. Bevil is willing to go with you, if need be—and he does know the surrounding countryside well, thanks to all the patrolling he's done. We just need the Knight Captain to sign off on it."

"Actually, getting out of here sounds like a wonderful idea. Fill me in."

* * *

Bishop was making a show of ignoring the sorceress when the dwarf and tiefling wandered into the great hall. For once, he was glad to see them.

"Kelghar! Neeshka!" He greeted them by name; something that immediately made them suspicious of him.

"Bishop," Neeshka and Kelghar chorused flatly as they crossed the room to stand in front of the ranger. "What's going on in this neck of the woods?" Neeshka asked.

"Strange things," he told the tiefling.

"Strange bedfellows," Qara clarified.

"How strange are we talkin' here? Kelghar asked

"Very strange." Bishop answered.

"How important is the bedfellows part?" Neeshka questioned.

"Very important," Qara replied, "at least, _I_ think so."

"Which bedfellows are we talking about?"

"Haesseth and Sand and Nevalle."

"Who? You're not serious."

"Would I lie to you?"

"In a heartbeat, Bishop."

"Yeah, you're right, I would. But I'm not lying right now."

"Well there's a first! You're not joking at all, are you?"

"Not in the least."

"They are strange bedfellows. You're right. So what's going on? Fill us in." As Neeshka spoke the Knight Captain's laugh rung out, loud and joyous, from the direction of her rooms, causing the four companions to look at each other with raised eyebrows. Something strange was going on.

* * *

Ammon was crafting items at one of the benches in the workshop while Grobnar jabbered away in his ear. It was too bad, really. He liked the keep and he liked the construct. It was the strong, silent type. He'd like Grobnar a lot more if the bard would keep his mouth shut. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? Why couldn't the gnome get the hint that he was ignoring him and go away?

He'd been busy this past few weeks crafting a number of important talismans and potions the party would need in the upcoming fight with the King of Shadows. They would need all the help they could get and he and the Knight Captain had to be alive to perform the ritual of purification on the creature that had been the Guardian of Illefarn. They needed anything that would even up the odds that were stacked against them. He stopped, mid-action, as an odd feeling seized him and his skin began to crawl. Someone was using powerful magic. A minute later, a wave of power rolled over him, leaving him breathless and needing to lean on the workbench for support.

"What in the world was that?" Grobnar asked; his voice filled with wonder, as usual.

"I don't know, but what ever it was, it was very powerful."

There was a clattering of booted heels on the stairs and Ammon looked up to find most of his adventuring companions staring at him.

"What have you done, warlock?" Casavir accused. Oh, that's right, blame the warlock. It must have been him. Who else would it be?

"I have done nothing, paladin," Ammon spat back.

"Know that this magic tastes of the planes," Zhjaeve explained as she moved through the workshop area to where the summoning circle was etched in the floor as if she expected to find something there. "Where is the creature you have summoned, Jerro?" she asked in a puzzled voice, finding the room empty except for the Knight Captain's pet spider.

"When did you summon something, Ammon? You're good. I didn't even see you move from the workbench." For once, Ammon was grateful for the gnome's prattling.

"As Grobnar has pointed out, I have not moved from this workbench. I have done nothing more than craft these talismans, today." He held up the amulets to show them what he'd been working on.

"But the magic swept out in a wave from this very spot, didn't it?" Zhjaeve waved a hand in the direction of the summoning circle.

"Did it? What part of the keep lies directly above this room?" Ammon asked them.

"That would be the Knight Captain's suite," Neeshka spoke, her eyes widening as she realised where the magic had actually originated. "Uh, oh!"

"We've got to check on the lass and make sure she's fine," Kelghar was the first to pound back up the stairs to the main level of the keep. "Those Githyanki might be after her again."

The companions ran through the keep and drew to a halt in the wing that led to the library and the Knight Captain's suite, surprised at the sight that greeted them. Aldanon, the sage, was in the corridor, running his hand up and down a barrier made of silvery light.

"Isn't this interesting? I've never seen anything like it. I came out of the library after that surge of magic washed over me and here it was."

"Aye, very interestin'," Kelghar observed as he ran towards the door to Haesseth's room.

"Wait, dwarf," Ammon called out to the monk, but he was ignored. When Kelghar came in contact with the barrier and tried to move through it, he was thrown back against the stone floor with great force.

"That had to hurt," Neeshka observed as she leaned over Kelghar's groaning form and extended a hand to help him up.

"Aye, lass, it did." Kelghar hissed.

"So what do we do now?" Bishop asked as he prowled along the length of the barrier, running a hand along it in much the same way as Aldanon had been doing.

"I think we need the wizard's help here," Ammon answered, "someone go fetch him."

"We have a problem then, warlock," Bishop snickered as he pointed at the door to the Knight Captain's suite, "he was in there with Haesseth and Nevalle."


	10. Chapter 10

"So, Haesseth, what would you have us do?"

"That's a loaded question if I've ever heard one, Sand," Haesseth answered with a small moan. "Urgh, so not good." She lifted her hands to her head and knocked on her skull as if trying to dislodge something inside her mind.

"What's the matter?" Nevalle asked.

"My brain is a cess pit," Haesseth explained, "Sand asked what I would have you two do and all I can think of right now is sex and all its wondrous possibilities because we're all shirtless and touchy-feely and you both look good enough to eat." And had she just admitted that right now? Nevalle's eyes widened and Sand burst out laughing at her comment. It was an all-out belly laugh, from Mr. Sarcastic-Yet-Decorous Lawyerly Type himself. "Hey, it's not funny!" Haesseth protested with a frown.

"On the contrary, dear girl, it is hilarious," Sand wiped his eyes, "absolutely hilarious. Ahahahaha! "

"Oh, you think so, do you?" Sand didn't like her tone of voice all of a sudden, or the determined, evil glint in her eyes. "And why is that?"

"Um…" He wasn't laughing any more. In fact he looked a little apprehensive. "Did I say hilarious? What I really meant was…"

"Take your trews off, Sand; that's an order, soldier," she commanded with a dismissive sort of wave. "And make it seductive while you're at it. Nevalle's strip show earlier left a lot to be desired." Haesseth felt Nevalle swallow and shift uncomfortably behind her. She reached a hand down to pat him on the thigh, hoping he realised she was trying to be reassuring and apologetic for her comment all at once and not just trying to cop a feel like the pervert he probably thought she was.

Sand couldn't believe what the Knight Captain had just ordered him to do. He'd personally been hoping for an order to kill Qara, something he wouldn't have to try to resist much at all. He'd had to go laugh at her, didn't he, and now he had to strip in front of her. If it had just been Haesseth it wouldn't have been so bad, but Nevalle of all people? He could feel the mortification creep along his cheeks.

No! He wasn't going to do it. He wasn't going to give the knight something to goad him with later. Their relationship was prickly enough as it was. This was something that didn't need to be added to the mix, absolutely not.

A moment after he'd resolved not to follow Haesseth's order, he began to feel nauseated and a little feverish and he groaned. The urge to do what she had asked of him was intense. Nevalle had been right about fulfilling orders. The more direct and explicit the order was, the more urgent the need to complete it post-haste. Sand stood up and stepped away from Haesseth and Nevalle, a panicked feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Oh, Mystra, he felt clammy and dizzy now. Not good. He had to do something about it.

He had to fix it.

His hand dropped to the lacings at his waist and hovered there for a moment as he processed what she'd ordered again. She wanted it seductive, did she? He'd complete her order. He'd ignore Nevalle and concentrate on her, make her want to knock her dirty little mind right out of her head. A slow smile spread across his face at the thought and he felt the feeling of sickness ease. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. It was time to turn the tables. He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of his trews and fished out the knotted leather lacings. It was show time.

Sand raised an eyebrow at the Knight Captain to let her know he would follow her orders. His challenging stare brought a blush to her cheeks as she realised he was going to go through with what she'd asked him.

Haesseth watched his slender fingers pull the knots undone with an unhealthy fascination. She felt a guilty thrill rush through her as she imagined what those nimble hands were capable of. She'd watched him make precision potions and intricate magical items with those hands. They were very talented hands and a little whimpering moan escaped her at the thought.

Sand's smile got wider as he heard her moan. His nefarious scheme (to beat her at her own game while under orders) was working. Now the knots were undone, he fanned his fingers out, thumbs together, and ran his hands down his body, threading his fingers through the lacings in an erotic game of cat's-cradle. His movements were excruciatingly slow and enticing--very deliberately so. He spread his hands apart, and the lacings followed in their wake, affording a glimpse of shadowed promise in the firelight.

"Shhh…" Haesseth calmed Nevalle, who had started to squirm uncomfortably behind her, never once taking her eyes of Sand as she did so. Sand untangled his fingers from the now loosened lacings and slid his hands to rest on his hips. He slid his hands under the waistband again and began to rotate his hips in a slow and suggestive dance, the trews sliding down his skin with every twist and turn he made until the leather skimmed the top of his thighs. He grinned triumphantly as the Knight Captain gulped--enjoying that she was speechless for once, though he knew it wouldn't last for long.

"Well, hellooo, Staff of the Magi," she finally quipped, looking up at him with a wide grin on her face. Her words induced a coughing fit in Nevalle who had been trying to look anywhere in the room but at Sand. She thought the knight had swallowed his tongue, for a moment, he was choking so much.

The whole absurdity of the situation hit Sand hard and he started laughing, even as he finished shrugging out of his trews, kicking them aside with gleeful abandon. Following orders had never felt so good before.

"Here, you poor baby," Haesseth was soothing Nevalle, "let's get you up off the floor, come on." She rolled on to her knees and stood up in one fluid motion, leaning over to offer him a hand up. "Sit down and I'll rub your back for you," she told him, leading him towards her bed and directing him to sit on the edge of it before she climbed up behind him and began to rub circles on his back with one hand.

"My dear girl, for someone with your diplomatic prowess, you're about a subtle as a bag of hammers," Sand teased as he crossed the room to sit down on the other side of her, now completely at ease with his nudity.

"Oh, I'll show you my silver tongue, wizard, just you wait. But it's Nevalle's turn to try and disobey orders, so behave." Sand saluted her and she laughed for a second before asking, "Now, Sir Nevalle, what's a fitting order to give a knight of your stature?"


End file.
